


Murder Boyfriends AU: Prologue

by Hy_and_Ry



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Alcohol, Assault, Blood and Gore, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Like actual murder, M/M, Multi, Murder, hatsome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:24:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6862906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hy_and_Ry/pseuds/Hy_and_Ry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time was an accident. The second time was a necessity. And after that they all had a taste for blood.</p>
<p>These are the events that set this AU in motion; how the Hats caused their first and second death and how they all react to the shock and trauma of the situation.</p>
<p>Or for short: The Hats get off on murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder Boyfriends AU: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is, as most things posted here, a collaboration between me (hyp3r) and Cryptid, who run this account together.
> 
> In this AU the three Hats live together in a shitty apartment in a bad part of town. The kind of place where finding dead bodies is little more than an inconvenience.
> 
>  
> 
> This is the first fic I've published for this fandom, so it goes without saying that I'm super nervous about it. Either way, enjoy!
> 
> -Hyp3r

The first time it was an accident.

They had been out drinking. It had been too late, and there had been too many discount whiskey shots. Their friendly touches and embraces had attracted unwanted attention, and they had just barely been able to hold Smith back from punching the guy that had hurled slurs at them, and thrown his drink at Smith.

Hands on each others shoulders they had conquered the cold autumn air on the way back home. Only Trott had brought a jacket, and he drunkenly scolded the other two for their carelessness, saying he "shure as hell wasn't goin ta help out if you both end up gettin' sick, ya pricks", and they had all laughed about it.  
The unpleasant confrontation earlier on had been buried, forgotten underneath the warm buzz of alcohol and the familiar touch of their friends. But then he was there again. Drunkenly slurring his words, gesturing and pointing at the trio, approaching and encroaching on their personal space, threats of violence mixed in with the rain of insults he spewed out.

"We don't want any trouble just calm do-" The man shoved Smith backwards. Smith stumbled, but the force hadn't been enough to make him fall. Trott reacted the instant the stranger made contact with Smith, landing a hard kick on his shin. The assaulter lost his balance, stumbled for a second before falling to the ground in the alley he had emerged from.

Ross made sure Smith was alright, that he wasn't hurt. Trott glanced over at the two of them to alleviate his worry for Smith, who had only been caught off guard.

Rage bubbled up in Smith and he closed the space between himself and the stranger on the ground in a few hasty steps. Propping himelf up on his arms, facing Smith, the man opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't, as Smith's steel toed boot connected with the underside of the mans jaw, clacking his teeth together forcefully. Smith didn't let down, his kicks impacting against the strangers side as he yelled, profanities and insults he reserved for only the most loathesome people.  
Smith saw red, he straddled the man on the ground and brough his fists down against his face, aiming for the eyes. He felt a distinct and satisfying crack when a particularly forceful blow came down against the mans nose, and a malicious grin spread on Smith's face. He grabbed the mans thinning hair and slammed his head against the asphalt repeatedly, the sound of the impacts getting wetter every time as blood and viscera stained the ground.

Finally Smith took a chokehold on the man, his thumbs pressing down hard over the trachea. The man struggled and gurgled, the bloody mess of his face contorting in pain and instinctual panic as his acess to oxygen was cut off. Rage fueled determination filled Smith and he put all his weight into the grip on the assailant's throat.  
The desperate struggles grew more frantic, and the man thrashed and kicked under Smith, his bloodied mouth opening and shutting like a fish gasping for air.  
And then he stopped. His eyes stilled and his arms fell flat against his sides.

Smith's ears were ringing. His breath was sharp and ragged and he tasted copper in his throat. The sounds of the city were muffled, distant, like Smith was submerged in water. Far away, he thought, he could hear a voice, talking to him.

"Smith? Smiffy!?" Huh, weird. Sounded just like trott. "Alex!"

Golden brown eyes. A hand on his cheek. Trott. Smith snapped back to reality. He was cold and aching and.. oh god.

"Alex, are you allright?" Trotts warm hand on his cheek, Trotts warm eyes, his warm voice. Smith was so dazed, the overwhelming stench of blood was threatening to make him heave.

"Trott this is serious we have to go before someone sees us..!" Another voice from behind smith.

"I'm working on it, Ross." Trott almost snarled at its source. Then his voice grew soft again. "Alex, can you get up? We need to get you home. As quick as you can, sunshine." The words started sinking in, Smith nodded and rose to his feet on shaky legs.

Protected by the last remaining dark of night the trio walked home, in silence. Arms on each others shoulders, Smith in the middle, supported by his friends. None of them talked. They didn't need to. They all understood.

Neither Trott nor Ross had stopped Smith. Smith had had no restraint. The outcome of the situation was, even in hindsight, what they had all wished would happened.

It wasn't until Smith undressed in the bathroom, and saw the stain on his boxers, that he realized he was still very much hard.

\--------------------------------------------

The second time was a necessity.

Trott had been attacked.  
Small for a man his age and caught off guard walking home from a sundown grocery run his assailant had grabbed him from behind in a chokehold, dragging him inside an alleyway.

Lagging behind, carrying the heaviest bags of groceries (frozen veggies, rice and beans, as well as some chicken for the curry he was planning on making tonight) Ross had seen all the commotion and hurried to help his friend.

Trott struggled frantically but had the disadvantage of being lifted into the air. He got a few good blows in with his elbows, but it wasn't enough to loosen the grip around his neck. Just as his vision started going there was a muffled squelching noise, and Trott was let go.  
He landed on his feet and spun around to see his attacker, pupils shrunken in terror, a small trickle of blood coming out the corner of his mouth; and the tall figure, who Trott instantly recognized as Ross, behind the stranger, hood drawn up to conceal his face.

The attacker gurgled, and fell limply to the ground. Blood stained the majority of his back, centering around a stab wound between his shoulderblades.

The knife fell to the ground with a clatter and Ross practically leapt for Trott, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Before either of them knew what had happened they were kissing, hands grabbing at each other with adrenaline-fueled need. They broke off, bodies flush against eachother, both red hot and panting for breath.

"Not here sunshine. Lets go." Trott purred, rolling his hips up to meet Ross'. Ross swallowed a moan and nodded in compliance. They moved the still warm corpse behind a container, collected the bloodied knife and the grocieries they had dropped, and hurried home, grins on both their faces. Adrenaline and arousal drowned out any shred of guilt they felt.

\----------------------------------------------------------

_The third time it was deliberate._


End file.
